"Sahib, it is at Pirgaon."

"I know it--is not Turkaran Patal the head-man?"

The dark face gleams with pleasure. "Even so, sahib."

"Shall I write to thy people?"

"The sahib is very kind."

"So will I do, and, perhaps, prepare thy people for thy homecoming. I
will tell them that thou hast lost thy feet with the frostbite, but art
otherwise well."

"Nay, sahib, tell them everything but that, for if my people hear that
they will neither eat nor drink--nay, nor sleep, for sorrow."

"Then will I not. But I will tell them that thou art a brave man."

The Mahratta smiles mournfully.

"And have you heard from your folk at home?" I ask of the others,
leaving Smith and the Mahratta together.

"Yea, sahib, the exalted Government is very good to us. We get letters
often." It is a sepoy in the 107th who speaks. "My brother writes even
thus," and he reads with tears in his eyes: "'We miss you terribly, but
such is the will of God. I have been daily to Haji Baba Ziarat' (it is a
famous shrine in India), 'and day and night I pray for you, and am very
distressed. I am writing to tell you to have no anxiety about us at